


Shadows in Flame

by MagnoliaPip



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 22:14:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29178558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagnoliaPip/pseuds/MagnoliaPip
Summary: The Lady of the Autumn Court before she married Beron, had children, and lost her name. This is how she met and fell in love with the love of her life and it’s not her husband.
Relationships: Helion/The Lady of the Autumn Court (ACoTaR)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	Shadows in Flame

She was growing tired, though she doubted it had anything to do with the two goblets of sparkling wine already in her belly. She came to these events as expected and put in the effort her parents required. She smiled brightly at unfriendly faces, laughed merrily at unfunny jokes, and tried to move with the grace and poise that had been beaten into her since she was a child. She remembered her etiquette as best she could, as polite as possible, and kept a close vigil on her carefully polished appearance.

It was never enough.

Her parents had yet to realize that the high-ranking males they so sought to match their three daughters with rarely ventured to parties like these for anything other than food, drink, and brief unfeeling sex. Mostly the first two anyway, as the last was never difficult for males of their position to acquire, by force if need be. Wives even, for that matter. Wives were bought, not courted at holiday parties. Such was the way of Prythian.

Because of her parents willful blindness, she was sent off to parties like the ball she was then hours into on the evening of the Autumn Equinox, one of the largest and most celebrated holidays in the Autumn Court. She looked over vast courtyard she had been standing, dancing, and drinking in all evening, the floor made of diagonally placed bricks a shade of dun, becoming quite hot from the humidity of too many bodies. The only escape from such oppressive conditions was to find a male to sweep her to the dance floor to the side of the courtyard, not ideal when most were already too drunk to walk straight equip with hands that enjoyed sliding down her backside more than keep beat well enough to stay off her toes. The many brass fixtures and adornments around the outdoor space had been polished to a mirrored perfection that would under ideal conditions leave the space looking much larger than it was. However, cramped with so many bodies, the effect was paradoxical, making it seem much smaller than if the amber metal hadn’t been there at all.

There were servants of course, weaving through the crowd. Likely lesser fae, a rough brown fabric like that of burlap sacks covered the helpless victims in a sort of shapeless body stocking, not even leaving openings for the eyes or mouths, eliminating their individuality and marking them as what they were to attendees: expendable, nameless, featureless help.

The mortals, humans, were never allowed in the presence the High Fae at functions like these. If even the lesser fae were seen as cattle by those high ranking, high nosed, High Fae present, the mortals would be little better than insects. Than dirt. If they were being used as slaves on this grand estate, and of that she had no doubt, they would be confined to the kitchens or hidden places within the manor. It made her skin crawl, seeing them all abused so, lesser fae and human alike.

The serving fae seemed to be having great difficulty passing through the mostly drunken crowd, laden as they were with bronze trays heavy with food and drink. The outfit that covered every part of their bodies didn’t seem to be helping their cause as the unforgiving material hindered their movements and restricted their reflexes. Still, they never made a sound as they worked, dodging as many perverse touches as stray limbs while they tried to do their jobs best to avoid a beating.

She knew how relations between races were growing more hostile in her court, and with this continued exposure to it, and she continually wondered how anyone could blame them for wanting a rebellion. Gods knew she wouldn’t be able to handle such imprisonment. She’d heard rumors of better treatment found at other courts, but these could never be verified.

Unable to look at them any longer for the pain it caused and unwilling to gaze at the corrupt nobles surrounding her, she looked up toward the open ceiling. Beams of redwood crossed over the wide space, open to the night air to allow a full view of the sky. There were so many fae lights overhead placed from one rafter to another they gave the illusion of standing within an orange tinted night sky. Gauzy ribbons a shade of gold moved faintly in the evening breeze, coiled around the wooden beams before swinging down in sweeping reverse arches to where they were knotted on the towering columns. Twined around each wooden column with burnished iron were more of those twinkling lights, flickering on as darkness grew. Candles of varying sizes were placed around every table on the outskirts of the courtyard with large bowls of hot coals near each of the archways, fire always to be close in Autumn.

Night was inevitably approaching as the lengths of the shadows grew from the sunset, but not nearly quick enough for her satisfaction. It wasn’t late enough into the evening yet to warrant her taking leave now. If she did escape to the carriage to wait for their departure, her sisters would defend her secret, coming up with some clever lie to tell their parents when they heard through the loose lips currently attending. However well intended it may be, it would never work. Excuses were never good enough, and she would be berated for it. Unfortunately, she was nearly bored to tears standing as she was on the edge of the party and her right cheek was beginning to twitch from the cramp in it hailing from the fake smile plastered on her red painted lips.

She searched the crowd for her sisters, but saw only the eldest. Her sister was in her element, showing off to everyone with delicate gestures and smooth curtsies, as if they cared how great of a lady she would make. And she would. She was born for it, not merely bred. There was a natural grace to her that Eleanora could only hope to imitate with any degree of accuracy. Her mother and the tutors used to smack her senseless for her lack of elegance, exclaiming loudly throughout the home that she must be a changeling with some lesser fae “wild thing”. Her mother would scream that if it weren’t for her Cauldron-blessed looks and power, she would give up on her youngest all together. Scream that it was an injustice, the daughter who most acted like a lady couldn’t be granted the equal looks as her younger sisters. Though she was always screaming the sisters each were missing something essential. The eldest lacked in appearance, the elder lacked in sociability, and the youngest lacked in subservience.

Sighing quietly, she ran a hand down the bodice of her gown, smoothing any wrinkles that had formed. The middle of the three sisters had a knack for courtly fashion in spite of her distaste for any and all courtly functions, and had picked out Eleanora’s gown herself. A gown of deep shining gold, beaded leaves of reds and yellows, purples and browns embroidered along the bust and falling down the bodice in a curved cascade. Not a hair was out of place on her head, as if it would have dared under her mother’s domineering gaze or Attina’s, her handmaid’s, firm grip. The top half of her hair, a brilliant through still deep red, was braided into the tiniest pleats which were then woven into the shape of a wide petaled flower not native to Autumn. A bold choice on a holiday dedicated to celebrating the Autumn Court. She only wished she was able to do justice to all of their hard work, but it seemed that once again it was wasted as she was effectively ignored by the general gathering.

She watched her sister with joy, her face relaxing as she did, relishing in an entertainment neither she nor her elder sister were built for. Her eldest sister shined, grinning without a trace of falsity on her carefully painted face. Her sleeveless gown hugged her body, twisting slightly around her petite form, a shade like cinnamon glazed pumpkin. Overlaying the deep orange satin was a lighter material that seemed to float above the dress, transparent but modest. The movement of the near invisible fabric in the cool wind of the coming rain transfixed her, swishing and swaying like a thought in a daydream, like autumn leaves swirling in a near winter wind. She hadn’t realized she was staring so intently until she was being talked to.

“I’m sure everyone in the room would understand if you wanted to take her home,” a deep voice said from a few steps behind her.

She turned curiously to meet the voice, jarred unexpectedly from the serenity of her own thoughts, and was met with the amused gaze of a male clearly not from her home court. He was tall and well built, dressed formally in a white robe that draped perfectly, though conservatively, around his form. The light fabric embroidered with a golden thread of a different and more luminous shade than the ones used in Autumn. His eyes were several shades darker than that thread, warm and alight as he took her in much the same way as she took him. Full lips were turned up in a soft, genuine smirk, like the start of a joke with a finish they shared, but it was his dark thick hair crowned with golden spikes which explained who this male must be.

Helion Spell-Cleaver, currently the only son to the High Lord of the Day Court.

The gossip mill in Autumn spun just the same as anywhere else and this particular loom was filled with tales of a Lord’s son who was so cold and blunt he was frequently deemed to be rude or even brutish. Someone who was too haughty for his young age, though still several decades older than herself. He stuck out among the drab decor and attire of the assembled, as much for his own dressing as for the power he was allowing to slightly shine through his dark skin, keeping the majority of it politely reined in. Courtly rumors had flown like they always did when a new heir took the crown, but both the news and rumors coming from Day were lackluster at best, at least according to her prattling mother. Reports said he was an insatiable flirt, willing to bed just about anything, but respected well enough by his people, much like his father.

Realizing she was staring, she fought to say something clever back, “Eh, pardon?”

Brilliant.

Apparently not noticing her lack of social graces, he tipped his chin gently toward her sister, who was giggling with the lecherous owner of the estate, “You’d only have to ask, I’m sure, someone as beautiful as yourself, to be granted her...audience.”

Despite herself, she grinned, the first time she’d done so honestly all evening, “Perhaps...if she weren’t my sister of course.”

“Hmm, that may be frowned upon then,” he drawled, still analyzing her. “Still, stranger exceptions have been made for ladies of your high standing.”

“I’m afraid my own interests tend to direct elsewhere. However, if you’re interested,” she gestured toward the ancient male with eyes firmly focused on her still laughing sister’s gently bouncing bosom. “I’m sure she can part herself from her current company.”

He took a small step closer, over that invisible line separating strangers from acquaintances, “I find myself content with my current company, if that pleases the lady.”

“Of course, my lord,” she replied in hast, flustered and glanced around at the others to see who was watching the heir interact with her. No one was. At least, not overtly.

He leaned against the redwood column near her, his arm so that it was directly over her head by a ways. Though she didn’t notice, to the rest of those gathered, it was an unmistakably possessive gesture and one that, unbeknownst to both, started the beginning of their love story, “So why were you staring at your sister?”

Though her mother could wring her neck for it, she opted for truth as she responded, “Livienne enjoys these gatherings far more than I. It’s a pleasure to watch _someone_ enjoy the festivities. Perhaps I may even learn something.”

A black brow rose in a delicate arch though his tone was one of concern rather than incredulity, “Would there be any way to make it more enjoyable for you?”

She was slightly taken aback by his question, the unexplained kindness in his words. She turned the words over and over, wondering exactly what he had meant by that, seeking out the telltale cues that marked his words as fruitless and empty. His preceding reputation painted the words suggestively, but his tone and the look in his eyes did none of that.

Listening to the harp playing quietly, a sorrowful brief interlude before the main band of stringed instruments and blown brass came back, she turned her back to him. The cool evening breeze softly blew short freed strands of her hair around her eyes as she contemplated his meaning. He was quiet for so long that she’d feared he’d disappeared back into the crowd, bored and put off by her silence, but he moved to stand at her side after the song finished, nobles clapping politely at the beautiful music they didn’t deserve. He said nothing more, but stood as a friendly force by her side, feeling in every way like someone she could and should trust. It was unnerving. Something she had never encountered before.

She answered in a whisper barely heard over the din of the crowd, “No, my lord. I fear my distaste for these sort of events goes beyond any aid you could offer. Much like my current manners now that I consider it. Look at me, bothering you with my selfish thoughts. On a holiday no less. What sort of lady am I?”

His smile became smaller, but more special, transforming his face into one that was eternally compassionate. One she could trust if she dared, “It is no bother at all. I fear this Equinox isn’t quite the holiday in Day that it is here. But if you believe it was a bother...perhaps I could bother you in turn.”

“In which way?”

He bowed his head deeply, hands sweeping out to the sides in a grand gesture of formality, “May I bother you to join me in a dance. I hear that is encouraged at these sorts of events and you may even find something worth learning in it.”

“You truly believe yourself that fine of a dancer?” she asked with a sidelong glance, attempting humor to disguise her racing heart.

“With the right partner,” he smirked, offering his hand.

She shook her head but placed her hand in his just the same, “I fear I’m not much of a dancer.”

“I suppose we’ll see for ourselves shortly,” he led her to the dance floor, which was rather unattractive in ugly swirls of brown and white marble, seeming as if someone had tracked mud over a smooth pearl floor. Her slippered feet moved smoothly over the polished surface as she slid into position so smoothly her mother may actually be proud should she have seen.

He pulled her around sharply, nearly tipping her over, and took her free hand in his left and began to move. The music was a soft uplifting melody, mostly composed of brass horns and bowed string. There were only two other couples on the floor, who looked at Helion with the unfair disdain and prejudice for those of other courts. However, while her eyes wandered to access those watching, his stayed focused on her, “If you dislike these parties so much, what are you doing here?”

Her golden slippers tapped as she moved with him, hips so close to his own it nearly made her breath catch, “My parents intend to find me a husband, sooner rather than later. I believe it’s been so long since they were...unattached, they forget what these parties are actually for.”

“Not spouses then?” he said coolly.

“No, not spouses,” she whispered as an afterthought, but then shook it off with a faux smile. “What is a Day Court native like you doing at an Autumn Court holiday? And not a courtly one at that, however high ranking the earl may be.”

“I’ve been to so many holiday parties in my lifetime, I doubt my home court will notice my absence from this one,” he grinned, hiding something behind his amber eyes. “My family has maintained a liaison of sorts with the earl’s family over the centuries and tries to drop in to pay respects as often as possible. Since accepting my crown, I haven’t had the opportunity. This party seemed as good a time as any.”

“Perhaps you could be bothered to accompany me on a turn through the gardens. If the idea of doing so wouldn’t be so distasteful as this gathering.”

She grinned widely, her eyes shining with good humor, “It would be my honor.”

Eyes cheerful, he reached for her petite left hand and placed it in the crook of his right elbow quickly as if he feared she might change her mind. Slowly, they made their way from the courtyard, past the half-drunk and delirious guests, past tables bowed in their middle from so many deserts, and past a fountain of sparkling wine kept chilled with magic. Stepping through the wide sparkling arch into the garden paths, the absence of so many bodies made evident the chilled night coming quickly, the gathered heat of that day’s sun struggling to hold on. Neither of them seemed troubled by it, their respective gifts leaving them content to cruise leisurely without the aggravation of temperature. Stepping closer to each other under the guise of warmth was a benefit not he nor she would remark upon, though she mutely enjoyed his presence.

Whatever personal feelings she harbored for the lewd owner of the estate, she couldn’t help but admire the sheer beauty surrounding them as they strolled. Hedges the color of winter pines trimmed to sharp edged perfection lined the cobblestone pathways sitting comfortably behind maple trees perpetually shedding their red leaves, clusters of pumpkin chrysanthemums and mauve crocus, and stone benches coated generously in places with sheets of thick moss. Interrupting the greenery occasionally were intersecting pathways of artfully cracked slate leading on an unknown maze which Helion would take every other turn, seemingly just because he could. The air was quiet and peaceful out there, the music and conversation of the courtyard fading to a distant background noise. The air was still out there, occasionally punctuated with the hoot of a nocturnal bird or chirp of an insect she was glad she couldn’t quite see. The wind rustled the dry leaves above their heads, occasionally causing one or two to lose their grip on their branch, falling in delicate twirls to the ground like the skirts of a dancing maiden. Oh, how she longed to lose herself out here with a favorite book, the sun overhead shining down on her as she read herself into another world, a better world.

“You know my name, fair lady, but I find I don’t know yours,” Helion said smoothly, his voice too deep and pleasant to truly cut through the tranquility of the moment.

She looked out into the distance rather than meet his gaze. For a moment, she considered not telling him, afraid of getting even that personal with the leader of another court, but shot the idea down. She’d already given up her sister’s name, “Eleanora, my lord. My name is Eleanora, of House Fenrise.”

“Eleanora,” He repeated, slower, like he was tasting the name on his tongue. “Eleanora.”

It made her self-conscious, nervous, jittery, “Yes, my lord.”

A smile tilted the corners of his mouth, relaxing lines she hadn’t noticed on his face until they no longer were. By the Cauldron, he looked decades younger when he wasn’t anxious. He stopped walking, taking a seat on one of the cold, sand colored benches. He patted the space next to himself gently and she sat quickly, taking the hint after a moment of staring, “Eleanora, please. Stop with this “my lord” business,” he urged with a friendly lightness. “I am not a High Lord yet, nor did I ask you to accompany me out here as a High Lord’s son.”

“I apologize, my l-Helion,” she corrected, feeling foolish. He didn’t seem to mind or notice her verbal stumble, his smile growing. “But that does beg the question, why ask me to follow you when you had your pick of the litter?”

“You looked as interested as I felt, which intrigued me,” he shrugged. “And I have few allies in this court. I could use another.”

Something petty and small shriveled inside of her chest at his words. Allies?

She tried to make her face pleasant, but must not have been doing well as he suddenly looked embarrassed, running a hand through his hair absently, displacing his crown, “Now it is my turn to apologize, dear lady. It’s been so long since I’ve had such company, I tend to forget myself.”

She boldly took his large hand, surprisingly rough and calloused in spite of his posh appearance, and pulled it onto her lap to massage with her thumbs. He didn’t seem to mind, though his eyes watched her own hands cautiously, “No apologies necessary, though if you continue to flatter me so, you may need to offer everyone else one for my growing ego.”

“Quality should be recognized,” he said in utter seriousness.

She rolled her eyes despite wanting to get lost in the deep look his eyes had taken, “You don’t know me enough to boast such nonsense. Giving you my name doesn’t grant you omniscience.”

He replied a bit sarcastically, “You’re right, of course. Tell me, sweet lady, if you hadn’t been forced to come here tonight, where would you have been otherwise?”

Once more, she weighed the merits of honesty. She didn’t know this male and he was from a strange, foreign court. Could she trust him? For all she knew of court politics, he could be an enemy of her own. But as she gazed at his earnest face, she realized that she could never view this male to be an enemy to her, however big a fool that made her, “If I wasn’t attending a lesson in how to be a proper lady of a sort, I would be curled in front of the fireplace with a book and cider. Well, as long as my sisters let me be long enough to enjoy it.”

“The book or the cider?”

“Both,” she tapped her fingertips down his wrist, still resting limp in his lap. “Always both.”

“Hmm, a book. You enjoy reading?” he sounded amused.

“Of course,” she waved her right hand dismissively. “Not that anyone else in my family understands the appeal, but at least my sisters are supportive. What better way to escape your situation for a while?”

He hummed contemplatively, “And what sort of situation does the lady wish to escape?”

Her heart began stuttering in fear. There was no situation as of yet, but there would be soon if their father had anything to do about it. Every year he tried harder and harder to get his daughters married off to this or that official within the courts. Despite all of his trying, there had never been a single taker. But rumor has it...

She supposed she was lucky. She’d only been at this a couple of years, whereas her sisters, significantly older than herself, had yet to attract a match satisfactory to their father. Oh, there had been offers, for all three of the daughters. However, they always seemed to come from someone too low born, weak enough to taint their perfect bloodline, or from an outside court. That just wouldn’t do for their father, who seemed dead set on gaining ground within Autumn first.

Certain he could hear every thump in her chest, she smiled not meeting his clever eyes and said sweetly, “Why, nothing, my lord.”

His eyes slid over her, cataloging every detail, she was sure. She dropped his hand onto her lap and picked up a fallen yellow leaf from next to her on the bench, twirling it by the stem with her fingertips, back and forth, back and forth, until her heartbeat eased. Eventually, he relented, ending his staring by redirecting the subject, “Does the lady enjoy the Equinox?”

She released a small whisper of relief before answering, “Not particularly. I never cared much for a festivities of it. It’s just another day of parties and courtiers.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, contemplatively.

Curious, she asked, “What does the Day Court do for holiday?”

“Oh, Cauldron,” he sighed dramatically, waving his left hand in a broad sweeping gesture. “You would be horrified. Day loves its parties, though they’re rarely as formal as this. Holidays are joyous times in our court, but so frequent that they’re really just a supplied excuse to see loved ones. At least, most mothers like to use them to bring their children home to visit several times a year.”

“Does Day truly celebrate so many holidays?”

“Of course,” he beamed. “Tell me one of the great holidays of Prythian that doesn’t in some way honor the sun? The Summer Solstice is the longest day of the year, the grandest celebration in our territory. I would compare it to the Autumn Equinox here, but it’s, well-”

He cut off abruptly, his dark skin reddening. She smiled softly, “Please, go on. I take no offense.”

He smiled back gratefully, “The fae here celebrate so...lavishly and with such...decorum. It’s not that way in my court. While both places seem to strive to have a good time, the intention behind it is different. It’s about family and comfort.”

“You’re court sounds lovely,” her tone a bit sad.

“If my father could see me now,” he winked at her. “Telling all of our court secrets to a strange female in an outside court.”

“What secrets?” she traced a finger over the veins of the leaf. “That your people enjoy their holiday? That they care more for each other than reputation and image? You should be proud to boast such things, Helion.”

He coughed, a bit flustered, his fingers twitching slightly where they rested near her skirt, before continuing on quickly, “It’s not just the Summer Solstice. The Equinox marks the halfway point between the two solstices so those are celebrated too, though it’s certainly less compulsory. Like I said, any excuse for a gathering. The Winter Solstice, however, is revered nearly as much as Summer.”

“Whatever for? The longest night of the year?”

“Ah! But every day after then gets just a touch longer, does it not?” his smile more juvenile than she would expect from nobility. Well, the nobility of her court, as she was now realizing that perhaps the term did not have a universal definition.

_Or perhaps, just maybe, he’s letting you see the real him. The one he doesn’t have to hide from the other courts._

She shut that voice down. It suddenly hurt to hope for it, “I believe it’s your turn for a question.”

Instead, he grabbed her left hand with the right one of his nearly causing her to drop her leaf and brought it over onto his lap, massaging it lightly with his warm fingers, “I didn’t realize we were keeping a tally. Shall I find some chalk or a soft stone to mark with? Cast bouncing bulbs of light to stack over our heads to see whose can climb the highest?”

Biting down a snarky retort, she instead raised a brow like he had earlier in the night, allowing a hint of faux cold into her tone, “I could always ask you another question instead.”

From the way his amber eyes met hers, he wasn’t buying it, but gave in nonetheless, “Which sorts of books do you enjoy reading?”

A delighted laugh tore out of her, greatly intensified by her unsteady emotions from her hand in his possession, “Oh, you truly shouldn’t have asked such a dangerous question. We’ll be here all night!”

He laughed with her. He stopped massaging with his right hand and gently twirled a stray curl of her hair not done up in braids the same as she was with the leaf still in her own hand, “By all means then, do tell.”

And she did.

As she talked, her tongue relaxed further, opening her up in a way she’d always been told to restrain. They discussed mythologies and histories, discovered they appreciated many of the same, while others sparked more heated debates, though they never turned malicious. Every time she disagreed with him, or accidentally spoke out of turn, she expected him to lass at her like her father or rebuke her like her mother. He did neither, instead encouraging the friendly argument with clearly intellectual but passionate positions. They shared an insatiable curiosity and love for learning. A lethal kindling for an intense fire.

Eventually their conversation turned to cover what she thought was nearly every conceivable topic from art to music to food. The personal was danced around, but never brought up directly, neither wanting to upset the beautiful connection they had found with each other.

As the night grew darker, the typically beautiful night sky overcast, he began to glow. Not the slight illumination he had turned on all night, but really began to shine. At first, she believed it to be out of convenience. The orbs of fae light were few and far between on these garden paths, so his glow helped brighten the otherwise eerie darkness. As he talked more enthusiastically, however, the glow would flare brighter.

Simply put, he shone when he was happy.

She found that incredibly endearing.

When dawn was just beginning to lighten the faintest bit along the horizon, turning the clouds from black to darkest gray, she yawned in mid-sentence. Helion looked over toward the lands beyond the hedges, “It would seem, sweet lady, I’ve kept you up all night.”

Unable to help herself, she grinned wickedly, “I could think of more compelling ways you could keep me awake.”

After the briefest pause, he threw his head back and laughed, his crown of golden spikes lopsided on his head, “I do believe you’ve stolen my line.”

She would have replied, but another yawn struck her mute once more, just the tiniest noise escaping her throat. He stood, stretching his muscles before offering his hand to her, “Are you well enough to walk?”

Nodding sluggishly, she took his offered hand and allowed him to lead her back toward the party. He kept glancing over at her as they walked back, an expression she couldn’t quite decipher on his beautiful face, though whether her incompetence was indicative of the expression or her exhaustion she couldn’t say.

As they passed through the arch they’d come through, the fae lights were beginning to dim as the impending day approached ever so slightly. The courtyard was scattered with the remnants of a drunken mess looking little better than a tavern, despite its much higher social origins. Servants were attempting to pick up after the rabble as discretely as possible. The musicians had long since gone off to bed, as well as most of the guests retired, only a lingering few stayed at the edges.

Two of those few, and quite probably the only two guests left besides themselves who weren’t stark drunk, came dashing toward her, but slowed to a near stop as they spotted Helion. Gazing up at the crown, now straight on his dark hair, and realizing who he was, they both dipped their heads formally.

Eleanora cursed herself. Why hadn’t she done that? How foolish!

As if sensing her anxious thoughts, he squeezed her hand reassuringly from where he still held it. He nodded to her sisters, “Ladies. I apologize for keeping your sister from you and especially for delaying your departure. We went for a walk amongst the gardens and got distracted.”

Livienne, the eldest and most shrewd, as well as the most protective, assessed Helion mistrustfully, “My lord, I trust my sister’s company was agreeable?”

“Delightful,” he grinned, apparently oblivious to her suspicion. Evidently, he’d decided that her sisters were as little of a threat to his court and recognized frontage as she herself. “It turns out your sister and I share a great love for literature.”

Much to her embarrassment, _both_ of her sisters rolled their eyes nearly in unison, breaking their otherwise impeccable etiquette. Ameris, her elder and middle of the three sisters, muttered beneath her breath, “Of course she would.”

Helion leaned in to whisper in Eleanora’s ear, “They don’t seem surprised.”

Her face grew as hot as her fire as Helion shook with silent laughter, “If you two are quite finished, I think we should head to bed.”

_Oh, Cauldron boil me!_

All three of them began laughing in earnest as the double entendre was caught a moment too late. She hid her face in her hands. Would it be too much to burn herself to a pile of ash, escaping on the first wind?

He reached back out for her, pulling her close and removing her covering hands. “Apologies once more, my lady. I fear fatigue and an evening well spent,” he _winked_ , damn him! “have made me a rather impolite guest this late. I suppose we should all head home before I get much worse.”

She nodded, heart sinking marginally as her reluctance to let the night end sprang forward from some hidden crevice in her chest, and began to walk away toward the stables, nearly tripping over a discarded goblet in the process. When he grabbed her hand, smoothly pulling her back around, she about fell into his chest “Eleanora?”

“Yes?”

His eyes danced, “How would you feel about meeting again, but perhaps not at a party this time? That it might put you more at ease?”

The smile on his lips then could have thawed the coldest of hearts, making her fire look like a poor imitation. Mother preserve her if she got any more at ease with this male. She nearly replied in the affirmative when a mournful reality set in, “As much as I would love to, I...don’t believe our parents would approve currently. Their ambition isn’t located in the foreign courts as of yet. A more domestic sort, I fear.”

Ameris hissed at her from behind, but she ignored her. For a moment, just a moment, Helion’s face was a study in the disheartened before he brightened once more, “Well then. I suppose your parents will just not need to know.”

Confusion furrowed her red brow, but before she could ask on it, he stole her voice as he slowly raised her pale hand to his lips, kissing it softly along the knuckles, “Until we meet again, Lady Eleanora.”

“Good day, Lord Helion,” she managed to croak out.

Releasing her hand, he bowed his head to each behind her, “Ladies.”

And with a turn and slight flare of light, he was gone, winnowing away. Back, she presumed, to his court. A court half a country away.

May as well be another world.

Livienne pulled her by the arm hard, breaking her longing gaze from where he had stood, “ _What the hell were you thinking?”_

Eleanora yanked herself back so forcefully she almost tipped over into the table of half eaten goods they passed, strolling toward the stables, “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“‘ _I don’t believe our parents would approve’?”_ Ameris whispered back with equal fervor. “What is that load of rubbish?”

Eleanora increased the pace of her walk, reaching up to gently unravel the pleats on top of her head that were starting to make her scalp itch, pulled tight as they were, “Father has made it quite explicit he intends to pair one of us off to someone of high rank in our own court first, then consider outside offers. In fact, I believe he’s turned down many a high ranking offer.”

“I don’t think that rule applies when the male interested is a _High Lord,_ or as close as makes no difference _,”_ Livienne insisted, gathering the skirts of her voluminous gown to follow her high pace.

“He would never be interested for that long. Give me another night boring him to tears with our talk of nothing but books and he’d run screaming back to his court,” she answered, only a slight lie as they crossed the grasses and through the black metal gates to board their carriage home, the driver already waiting with the door open.

“That’s not what his eyes said,” Ameris observed in that quiet, blunt way of hers.

“You’re making a mistake,” Livienne insisted, the train of her gown swishing through the grass.

“We’ll soon find out, won’t we.”

“No, Elie, we won’t,” Ameris stepped into her path. “I’ve been alive for 75 years, and Livienne near a century more than that. Neither one of us have ever attracted a worthy offer to lay with a high ranking noble or anyone with sway in the courts. Our parents’ terrible personalities made sure of that. But look at you! You’re only eighteen, barely grown, and you had his gaze for the entire night. You _are_ making a _mistake_.”

Eleanora bared her teeth slightly, “Whether or not I am, that is none of your concern. This was one night, blessed by the holiday, if you believe in such nonsense. Tomorrow he will have forgotten all about me and that’s all there is to it. Now, can we please, _please_ go home?”

Livienne looked like she wanted to continue, but Ameris twitched her hand out slightly in a stopping motion, the long sleeve of her mauve gown nearly long enough to brush the ground.

Relenting finally, the sisters crawled one by one into the ornate if cramped coach, painted a rather unattractive olive green. Each grabbing the brass handle in turn to pull themselves in, also assisted with a hand on their elbow by their driver, they settled softly into the plush brown cushions covering the benches. Just in time too, as the early morning rains began, the heavy clouds no longer able to contain their load and it looked to continue the whole, long journey home. She’d heard rumors of courts that never had bad weather, their High Lords using their magic to sustain the land without rain. She’d also heard rumors of courts that had safe observation areas for weather. If only she were to see Helion again, she could gauge his opinion. What sort of magic must it take to hold back entire storms?

Safe and away from eyes that may care about such things, Ameris began letting her hair down from its smooth knot, her hair similar in color and texture to Eleanora’s. Just finished combing through her own with her fingers, left wavy from the pleats, Eleanora reached over to loosen the pins holding Livienne’s usual wild and curly mane back. It was being forcefully tamed into a chignon not typically suitable for ladies with her texture, but their mother was nothing if not tenacious. Her fingers brushed the pins near the nape of her neck, but Livienne flinched away, “No!”

Her hand froze in mid-air, “Liv?”

“No,” she said again, less forcefully. “You know how mother feels about it. Leave it be.”

Ameris, who was sitting across from them, traded seats with Eleanora and finished what she had set out to do, “There is nothing wrong with your hair.”

Livienne snorted, “It’s orange, like a carrot, and looks like a bush.”

“A very pretty bush,” Eleanora said innocently, batting her eyelashes sweetly.

Ameris sharply threw a hairpin at her across the coach which she dodged, but Livienne smiled nonetheless, “Forgive me, ladies. What a poor example I’m setting for both of you with my self-pity.”

The ladies bounced slightly in their seats, listening to the sound of the rain on the roof of their carriage. When Ameris had finished pulling out pins, she moved to sit with Eleanora, allowing her younger sister to lay her head on her shoulder rather than the rough, peeling wall she had been using as a pillow.

“There is plenty they don’t like about any of us, Liv. Your hair, my eyes, and Eleanora’s-” she broke off abruptly

“Everything,” she finished faintly, eyes closed. “My looks are the only thing our parents like about me. That, and our power. If they could just strip me of my self, they might be satisfied.”

“Impossible,” Livienne snorted. “They’ve never been satisfied in their entire lives, and they won’t be as long as we breathe freely.”

“Until we’re married,” she replied. “They may lay off then.”

“Yes, but to find someone respectable enough to let us be married off might surely be worse than being stuck with them forever,” Ameris interjected, slowly stroking Eleanora’s hair rhythmically.

“Now _that_ is impossible,” she whispered, just before dosing off dreamlessly.

* * *

She woke to Ameris poking her shoulder, “We’re home. Wake up. Before Father and Mother see.”

Groaning dramatically, Eleanora stretched her sore muscles as best she could in the scrunched space, much to the amusement of her more poised company. Livienne had found a hairbrush in the bench of the carriage which she offered to her youngest sister to tame the ridiculous hair from their ride, the other two having already used it. The light of middle morning shone through the tiny window, showing that the rain had moved on, leaving not a cloud in the sky, though much still soaked onto the ground. Weather was a such a fickle thing.

The driver knocked on the door a moment later before opening it and offering a hand. They exited in order of birth, Livienne first, then Ameris, and finally, with her joints popping as she lowered herself to the ground, Eleanora joined her sisters in front of their home.

A great ugly beast of a mansion, the architecture might have been beautiful if it didn’t look so purposefully vicious, undercutting any appeal. The building was meant to look half decayed without actually being so. A horrid mix of artfully crumbling brown bricks and black faux rotten wood, the awful structure was accented with warped iron, tapered to points with lethally sharp edges.

And the most horrid part of the manor was standing in the front doorway with a glass of something gold-colored he shouldn’t have been drinking so early. He looked over his daughters as they climbed the front walk toward the house, each pretending to stare at the cracked cobblestones rather than him, as if he could ascertain for himself with one long look whether or not their virtues were still intact. Evidently satisfied, he turned and stalked off, their mother coming in from the shadows to grab each of them in turn and give them a closer inspection.

Not out of love, never that. Taking inventory of their assets would be closer.

After she had finished, tugging on them painfully and scratching them just enough with her nails to not draw blood or leave marks as she looked them over, she took several steps back. “I believe we asked you all to be back hours ago. What kept you?” her voice was awfully nasal, harsh and always sounded disgusted. Though she appeared to speak to all of them, they’d each learned long ago that it was the eldest who held the voice for them all.

Livienne spoke softly, eyes trained on the marble floor, “The storm had come in early to Earl Vahram’s manor, Mother. It seemed to hover over us for so long we feared we might never get to leave. We apologize for keeping you waiting.”

Their mother’s hand twitched like it itched to slap her face, but she couldn’t find a reason this time. She smiled unkindly at them, “I suppose I should be grateful that none of you decided to whore yourselves out during the night. Now off to bed with the lot of you. Since you couldn’t find it within your capabilities to arrive back home at a decent hour, you shall each remain separately in your rooms until dawn tomorrow. Perhaps that will teach you to be home on time.”

“Yes, mother,” they each repeated, staring down at the floor.

Their father may not be the most loving man in the world, but outsiders often made the miscalculation that he was the crueler of the two. He’d even been known to be startled by some of her more creative methods of handling their daughters. Their father ran the estate and larger affairs. Their mother ran the daughters.

They stood waiting in a line until she walked away, more like small children than fully grown females. Slowly and with making as little noise as possible, they climbed the dark staircase to their rooms. With a brief drowsy good night wished to each of her sisters, Eleanora opened the ornate door to her bedroom.

The space, though smaller than the rooms of anyone else in the household, was still quite large. Sporadically placed over the cherry wood floors were great rugs, weaved long ago on the continent and depicting scenes through brightly colored threads of creatures long believed hunted to extinction within Autumn’s borders. A great broad-winged dragon with scarlet eyes breathing fire down over apple trees, branches heavy with fruit, and small fire-foxes with tales ending in a flame chased after a hare with antlers between their ears. Another illustrated a massive feline with two teeth sticking outside its jaws, each as long as her forearm pouncing on the back of a deer with antlers longer than a male. In the background beyond the hunting plains, a lake with pale tentacles reaching out at poor, unsuspecting creatures taking a drink at the water’s edge. Horses with feathered wings tried to out run an ancient species of fae with six long muscled arms, their legs replaced with a thick scaled body like a snake, slithering as fast as the winged horse could run. If only it could just get to the skies.

Many more similar scenes were pictured on rugs and paintings throughout their home, each brutal and beautiful in its savagery. Eleanora could remember spending hours as a child staring horrified but mesmerized by the art, her imagination wondering what a world would be like with such creatures, and where they had gone. The landscape was undeniably Autumn, and various written text she was able to find in the libraries when she was granted a moment’s peace seemed to accept that they had once been there. They still heard rumors once in a while of vicious beasts in other courts. No one ever had an answer for where they disappeared to from here. No one seemed to care.

She walked further into her room, kicking off her velvet shoes beneath her bed and tossed her hairpins onto her vanity table to be properly put away when she could keep both eyes open. Shrugging out of her gown as quickly as her unsteady legs and fumbling fingers allowed her to, she crawled into the her bed. A vast wooden frame decorated with quilts and blankets varying shades of wine and a sheer canopy a few shades lighter flowed around the edges of the bed, usually gathered near the top in ruffles during the daylight hours. She wished to change from her shift into something more comfortable, but feared she wouldn’t be able to walk the length of her room.

She turned over onto her right side so she could look out the east facing window into the sky, the bright light of day shining down over the vibrant forest of the estate. In her state of mind, she wondered what a sunrise may look like in a court said to be second only to Dawn. She yawned impressively and closed her eyes. Just before dreams claimed her and unable to control which direction her musings took her, she unsurprisingly thought of the male she’d spent the night talking to. He wasn’t nearly what she’d expected, much kinder and more intelligent than public opinion granted. The last coherent thought she had before drifting away was how perfect his lips had felt on her hand.

And how badly she wanted to feel them everywhere else.

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally intended to be the first chapter for a multi-chap story, but I’m not sure I have the energy for that. This chapter has been sitting in my documents since ACOWAR came out and I’ve been slowly adjusting it as time goes on. This is my first fanfic posted here and I was...nervous. It may still see itself adjust to being a full story...it will depend on what happens in ACOSF and if that alters my plans. This story is also posted on tumblr at tumblr.com/blog/magnoliapip


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